


The Start of Something New

by reginahalliwell



Series: Stuck on Your Heart [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Episode: s03e12 Friends & Family, Gay Panic Hiking, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Panic Hiking, verbatim dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginahalliwell/pseuds/reginahalliwell
Summary: Canon-compliant 3.12 fic filling in some scenes around David and Patrick's developing relationship as they prepare to open Rose Apothecary together
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Stuck on Your Heart [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712074
Kudos: 62





	The Start of Something New

Last minute preparations for the Rose Apothecary opening were in full swing. Slowly but surely, inventory was filling the shelves, countertops, hooks, and drawers, and the ladder shelving at the storefront was being assembled (though that had been much more difficult than David had anticipated).

Patrick’s trip up to the nursery in Elmdale to acquire their herbs and plants had been a nice diversion from the constant unpacking, organizing, inventory-taking, and David’s obsessive adjustment of each product so it was in precise, exact lines and angles.

When he returned back to Schitt’s Creek, Patrick found David was a bit quieter than usual, probably nervous about the impending store opening. It was a scary thing, to be sure, but Patrick had all the confidence that they would be successful—if not at first, he trusted the business plans and numbers he had seen so far would get them into the black before too long. It didn’t hurt that their grant money had just come through and they were now officially business partners.

David grabbed a juice out of the fridge, one of those smoothie looking things that had blueberries and banana and mango but also maybe spinach or kale, though not enough of the latter to make it a weird greenish color that didn’t look at all appetizing. David drank down a few gulps of it without flinching, so Patrick assumed it was moderately edible, at the very least. He hadn’t sampled as many of their products as David insisted on doing, and he was pretty sure that by the time they opened, even between the two of them they wouldn’t have consumed as many products as Alexis had.

Still, David set down the juice after a few sips and moved to use his As Seen on TVÔ Flip Fold perfect shirt folding apparatus to fold the bulky cream-colored alpaca wool sweaters they had acquired on consignment from a farm in Elm Glen. He was folding the sweaters earnestly, though if Patrick was being honest, the Flip Fold didn’t seem to be helping much, and he trusted that David could probably do a better job without it. But if David was uptight enough to feel as though he needed folding assistance, Patrick would let him have it without complaint.

He was busy enough with his own concerns to manage before they opened later that week. The lights were still not installed, David still hadn’t called to confirm their insurance, and they still had a few more issues to iron out with the card reader and POS system. It didn’t help that he was pretty sure David was not going to finish the items on _his_ To-Do list and Patrick was going to have to end up doing them himself. It was a small price to pay.

Today, David was wearing an interesting black sweater with motifs that looked like gold wrapped circular mirrors in a precise pattern all over the sweater’s front. Not that Patrick had gotten close enough to touch them, but he couldn’t imagine it was incredibly comfortable when David sat down or leaned against something. He supposed that was why the sweater was empty on the back side. It really wouldn’t do to squash any of those expensive looking motifs by sitting on them—especially if they were actually glass.

David’s brows were furrowed a little more than usual, too, or maybe Patrick was just more attentive to him. He had been particularly attuned to David lately, and cognizant of his own feelings about and around David. It was kind of an all-consuming issue at this point.

To work through these _feelings_ Patrick was starting to have, he had taken a lot of hikes lately, based on recommendations from Ray via others in the area (he didn’t suppose Ray did much hiking). He had made a friend doing his regular hike up to Rattlesnake Point, Miles, who he often ran into at one point or another on the trail. He had used his time hiking to think a lot about his life in Schitt’s Creek and the life he had left behind. Who he was then, and who he was starting to see himself as now.

A big part of that was David Rose. He had only been in Schitt’s Creek for a few weeks before David walked into the office in Ray’s house, and that first meeting had been enough to shake Patrick to his core, to upset the very foundation upon which he believed his entire identity was built. David made him wonder things about himself he had never really thought to question before.

And it was glorious, and uncertain, and sometimes painful. When David had clearly slept with an ex a few weeks back, it had caused something that felt very much like jealousy to arise in Patrick, although he had only known David professionally at that point. To be fair, they _still_ only really know each other professionally, although Patrick could see that slowly morphing into a more _social_ relationship. They hadn’t exactly “hung out” ever, but Patrick _had_ invited David to crash with him when Alexis had lice, and he had once or twice intimated that he was going for a drink at the Café, hoping David might choose to join him. But it was all explainable as professional, respectful, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary behavior.

If Patrick was right about how he felt about David (and, he hoped, how David felt in return about him), then he was going to have to push things a little bit further. Patrick had been slowly trying to do this for a week now, and maybe he was just really bad at flirting, or maybe David didn’t like him like that or didn’t even recognize that’s what Patrick was doing, but whichever it was, the fact remained that David still saw him—or at least treated him—solely as a business partner. Which, to be fair, they were. But Patrick wanted to be more than that. And despite this being the first situation in which he felt that way about a man, he was _pretty confident_ that David felt the same way about him. Not sure enough to say anything outright, maybe (yet). But confident enough to push a little bit into unfamiliar territory.

So Patrick reached over to the half-full bottle of yellow-orange juice that David had set down on the cash counter a few minutes ago before he went to attempt to fold the bulky sweaters, grabbed it, and _very casually_ took a sip, deliberately not looking at David as he did so. Patrick played it very cool, very nonchalant. It was some sort of mango juice, he thought, and not nearly as bad as he had expected it to taste.

Really, it was the kind of thing that was good for you and didn’t taste bad but because you knew it was good for you was somehow less appealing. But David had decided to stock it for the store, and so very likely there was a good market for it. At the very least, it would give Twyla’s smoothies a little competition, which Patrick understood from various townsfolk would be a welcome change.

“Um, is that your juice?” David asked casually, though he _definitely_ knew the answer to that question. Still, he made it sound like he was giving Patrick the benefit of the doubt, which he wasn’t.

Patrick tried to keep a smile off his face, deadpanning, “No, technically I think it’s _our_ juice, uh, because you just took it from the fridge and didn’t pay for it, so…” He broke off, waiting for the implication of David basically stealing from their store before they were even open to customers to really hit home. It seemed to be falling flat, as David was still concerned about his beverage. _His_ juice, which Patrick was now drinking. David’s backwash was in his mouth, and Patrick’s would be in his upon returning the drink. Then again, if they continued the way things were going, Patrick was pretty sure more than backwash might be shared between the two of them.

“Mm-hmm. Um, it’s just that I don’t normally share beverages with people,” David explained carefully.

“Really? That is shocking news,” Patrick announced in a deadpan tone with no hint of surprise whatsoever. It was having the intended reaction, at least. David was not only paying attention to him, but he had successfully drawn David’s eye to his mouth and was likely also thinking about Patrick’s mouth and what it would mean to _share a beverage_ with him.

David took it all in stride, continuing his approximation of folding those impossibly bulky sweaters. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “Fortunately, you look like you have a clean mouth, so…” he didn’t finish his sentence, just leaving it open for Patrick to do with what he wished.

Patrick looked at him with a sort of pleasant surprise at the turn this conversation was taking. Of course David Rose had different ways of classifying the cleanliness of people’s mouths. He had probably kissed enough of them to be an expert on the subject. Still, he was interested in hearing more. “Sorry, a ‘clean mouth?’” Patrick asked with a curious grin.

David rested his hands on top of the folded sweater, momentarily pausing his efforts to explain. “Yeah, some people have nice, clean mouths,” he said, “and some people have sloppy mouths.”

“I see.” Patrick took all this in, bringing the juice with him pointedly as he stepped out from behind the counter and moved closed to David.

He brushed his teeth, used mouthwash, even flossed pretty regularly, but he wasn’t sure if that was what David meant constituted a ‘clean mouth.’ He was, at least, pretty sure that David didn’t mean ‘clean’ in the sense of not swearing, because he had heard the word “Fuck” come out of David’s mouth repeatedly, and if that didn’t make his mouth filthy, he wasn’t sure what would. Meth mouth was gross, but more ‘disgusting’ than ‘sloppy.’ So what exactly made one’s mouth clean or sloppy?

Patrick stopped his train of thought momentarily to change the topic of conversation to their opening at the end of this week. “So hey, I was thinking about our launch party, and I think we should take out like a full page in the local news, and just make it a—make it a thing, you know?”

“Mmm,” David said, absorbing the suggestion. “Well do you not think people are gonna show?”

That was the opposite of what Patrick had wanted. He wanted to make it huge, really make Rose Apothecary a force to be reckoned with. “No, no, I do. I just think if we’re going to go big, let’s go big.” They might as well, right? You only get one store opening, and they had both put pretty much all their eggs into this basket.

David did that squinty-eyed thing he often did, but especially characterized his expression of when he had a very clear idea that clashed with whatever someone had just suggested. And yes, here it was. David offered, “Yeah, cause I was thinking, what if we did like a soft launch?” He continued, “And you know, just tested the store out with a small group of people… did like a VIP guest list and offered a friends and family discount as incentive?”

That didn’t sound like the grand opening he and David had previously discussed, but Patrick supposed they both had clear ideas about what this would be like, and Patrick _had_ agreed that David would make all the creative decisions. Still, this was firmly in between their chosen territories. How they launched the store would set the scene for how their first few months of business would go, and it kind of seemed like David was less confident now about the opening than he had been yesterday.

“Huh, now it’s sounding like _you_ don’t think people will show,” Patrick said as much, tilting his head in concern.

“Oh no, I do, I do think, um, that people will come. It’s just, you know, I look to like Gwyneth, who soft-launched the Goop newsletter and now it’s a thriving lifestyle publication/empire, and—” David had a good enough explanation, but Patrick could only guess what name he was dropping. Probably Gwyneth Paltrow, he assumed. Wasn’t she an actress? It didn’t really matter. If David was so set on a softer launch, and was concerned enough that he wanted to offer a discount to their first customers, there was very likely not much that Patrick would be able to do in order to talk him out of it.

Easier to go along for the ride, and pick up the pieces later if need be. At least that way if things went horribly, Patrick wouldn’t be starting things out this business relationship as the one to blame for the situation. He shook his head and explained, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it’s up to you.” He was happy for David to take the lead on this, and as much as he loved teasing the man, he also wanted their launch to be successful. Patrick tried to keep the passive aggression out of his voice when he continued, “Either way you do need to call the electrician to hang these lights that were supposed to be up a week ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was waiting for a call back from him,” David explained, thinking back to when he had last heard from the electrician. Seeing the look on Patrick’s face and knowing that if he was going to own his own business, he was occasionally going to have to take the initiative, David continued, “But you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna follow up.”

“Sure,” Patrick answered agreeably, holding David’s gaze as he casually tipped the bottle of juice back again and drank from it. David was staring at him like he didn’t know what to make of the whole thing.

“Can I have my juice back, please?” David asked, pointing to the half-empty bottle as he picked up another bulky sweater to begin folding.

“No, you have a sloppy mouth,” Patrick replied. He walked away as though what he had just said he had known with certainty all his life and hadn’t just heard from David. David’s jaw was clenched in disbelief, a sort of grimace furrowing his eyebrows in surprise. But Patrick felt it was important to not only keep David from always getting his way, and to keep him on his toes as much as possible. Whether David interpreted that as flirting was an entirely different matter.

~

**David Rose**

Okay, so can you confirm who you’d like

to put on your VIP guest list for our soft launch?

**Patrick Brewer**

Oh, I didn’t realize we had decided on the

soft launch after all. Are you sure about this?

**David Rose**

Can you just go with me on this?!

Who do you want on your list?

**Patrick Brewer**

Fine, David.

Umm, let me think a second.

Ray, I guess, and maybe Miles.

**David Rose**

Okay, who the hell is Miles?

**Patrick Brewer**

He’s a friend I go hiking with sometimes.

Jealous?

**David Rose**

Of hiking?

Fine, Miles can be added to the list.

**Patrick Brewer**

Why? Who is on yours?

Your family, Stevie, and who else?

**David Rose**

Oh, so now we’re insulting my lack of friends?

At least you have a reason for having such a small list.

I’ve lived here for years!

**Patrick Brewer**

It sounds like that’s a you problem,

not a me problem. I don’t have anyone else to add,

if you’re really sure you want to keep it that small.

I could invite my parents, or some of my cousins,

but I don’t think they can make the

long drive on a Friday after work.

**David Rose**

I mean, I guess we can add Roland and Jocelyn.

**Patrick Brewer**

Whatever you think is best, David.

Just give me the final number so I can

order the right amount of food and wine.

**David Rose**

Let’s just say a dozen. I can get a dozen

people to come out and support me.

I used to run standing-room-only

galleries in New York.

I can handle twelve people.

**Patrick Brewer**

Twelve it is, then. I’ll put the order in

first thing in the morning.

**David Rose**

Ughhhh. How is this already a nightmare?

**Patrick Brewer**

We’re going to get through this, David.

It’s going to be fine. Just invite the people

on your list and I’ll make sure Ray and

Miles know, and then we’re good.

**David Rose**

I regret everything.

**Patrick Brewer**

That’s good, definitely an appropriate

reaction and not a bit overdramatic.

**David Rose**

Fuck you.

**Patrick Brewer**

I’m excited too, thanks! See you tomorrow.

~

“Uh, how many people did you tell about Friday?” David asked, setting down the very _wrong_ sandwiches on the table as he barged into Rose Apothecary.

“Just the people on my pre-approved list,” Patrick conceded. “Why?”

“Um, because I have been approached by _a lot of people_ who are not on the pre-approved list.” David’s nerves were coming through even in the way he was unpacking the food from the Café, and the tone of his voice was just slightly higher than normal. Patrick could see that he was concerned, but he wasn’t too worried.

Crossing his arms, he explained smugly, “Well, sometimes when you tell _everyone_ that it’s exclusive, then everybody just wants in.” Patrick finished with a grin before growing slightly concerned. “Like how many people are we talking about?” He had only ordered enough food and wine for a couple dozen people.

Sure, there were only like eight people on their pre-approved list, but Patrick had tried to build in some wiggle room, just like he had on everything else dealing with the store so far. But if it was more than a couple dozen, they might have to pull from their backup inventory on the wine, and the cheese… well, they might just run out of cheese.

“Uh, I don’t know,” David answered, cocking his hip as he leaned on the table, boxes of inventory still in deed of unpacking, shelves still mostly empty behind him. “Twyla’s whole family, so like 75?” he estimated in panic.

Patrick didn’t move his crossed arms as he inhaled sharply and then let out a whistle. “I should have ordered more food and wine.” But this wasn’t the end of the world. They could make this work.

David audibly scoffed and turned to look back at the sandwiches, really wishing he could bury himself in something delicious to cope with this.

Patrick continued straight-faced, “Looks like this soft launch is firming up a bit, huh?” looking David right in the eye as he did so. The words came unbidden out of his mouth, and before he could feel embarrassed, Patrick wondered if this might launch the conversation in a direction Patrick desperately wanted it to go, if only to open things up a bit more between himself and David.

“But it’s not supposed to be firm,” David countered, curling his lip as he gesticulated, pointer finger out and aggressively moving through the air.

“Well, with this many people it’s definitely at least semi-firm,” Patrick said, once again with the straightest possible face as he looked David right in the eye. In any other situation, he would not have chosen those particular words. Why were launches called soft or hard, anyway?

“Okay,” David said, raising both hands in the air this time in exasperation. “Well as long as it doesn’t get hard,” he conceded, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Jackpot. Patrick was hoping this was an indication that such things were on David’s mind just as much as they were Patrick’s. “And that’s something,” David continued, grimacing as his mind caught up with his mouth, “That’s what I just said to you, so…”

Patrick tilted his head, looking across at David with the same confused/intrigued expression he imagined had graced his fact for the first few moments of their business relationship. There was more affection in it now, though he supposed David couldn’t tell the difference.

~ 

David walked in the door to Rose Apothecary already speaking, though Patrick was much more taken in by David’s faux zebra-print sweater, a cashmere (he assumed) black and white conundrum with a several hundred-dollar price tag. He focused back on David’s words, taking in his business partner’s anxiety. “So I was just verbally assaulted by a very off-brand customer in the _line_ outside.” His emphasis of the word “line” instead of “assaulted” assured Patrick this was more about David’s concern for the massive group of people than the unruly townie.

And it was a bit disconcerting, given that Patrick was only able to find enough wine and cheese for maybe three or four dozen, if they pushed it and took the loss on the cost of the inventory they had planned to be able to sell. But in another, much more exciting way, it was reassuring, even when they had only wanted a dozen people, who were more socially obligated to attend their opening rather than genuinely interested in Rose Apothecary itself. Instead, dozens and dozens of seemingly random people were now not just potential customers, but were already building brand loyalty. It was exciting, and wonderful, and a little scary.

Patrick knew it would be okay, but this was still the first business he had been really invested in like this. He had helped others get their starts or had served as a consultation when they had needed financial advice, but Rose Apothecary was so much more than that. If they failed, it wouldn’t just mean a loss of revenue, but a loss of David, with whom he was really enjoying spending all this time.

He looked out at the line of strangers, people who they couldn’t even trace back to one of them or to David’s family, and shook his head. “Well, David, I have really underestimated you,” Patrick said calmly.

“How so?” David asked, a glimmer of a smile on the edge of his lips. He might be freaked out about this, but it was exciting to him too.

“Who knew you had so many friends,” Patrick joked, “Or, uh, family members, for that matter?”

David wasn’t in the mood to be teased, apparently, because he just moved his hands aside in exasperation and asked, “Okay, what do we do?” like it wasn’t all going to be fine. “I, for one, blame Gwyneth,” he began, before Patrick broke in and cut him off.

“David, relax, it’s all going to be fine,” Patrick reassured him. And it was. It was going to be more than fine. All signs actually pointed to this being great, a huge boon portending their success as a brand and a partnership.

David shook his head, not believing Patrick despite his reassuring tone of voice and facial expression. “Oh my god, the lights!” David realized as he faced the sconces on either side of the cash counter, which he had _definitely_ forgotten to call the electrician about and said as much.

Patrick nonchalantly flipped the light switch by the stock room doorway and the sconces lit up perfectly, David shrinking away in immediate surprise. “I watched a lot of YouTube tutorials,” Patrick offered in humble explanation.

All at once, David seemed to calm down. The expression on his face shifted from one of obvious panic and anxiety to… fondness? And excitement. Patrick could feel butterflies rising in his stomach, fluttering around like his torso was a natural museum. “This is very impressive,” David complimented him, eyebrows raised and eyes twinkling. It did something to Patrick, shifted something inside of him. David was proud of him, or admiring his competence, or something like that, and whatever it was, Patrick wanted that feeling to last forever.

He could feel the blush rising on his neck and tried to tamp it down before it showed itself on his temples. In self-deprecation, he offered, “Well, there’s a good chance I didn’t wire that properly,” hoping it would make his abdomen stop clenching in that delicious way. And then it got easier, and he fell into his more natural rhythm of teasing David. “So, that’s why I also got the insurance that you forgot to get.”

They shared a look, the dynamic between them ebbing and flowing as they danced together. “Mmmkay,” David said, squinting and looking aside momentarily, “Uh, there is only so much that I can do in a day.” He waved his arms distractingly between the two of them, the quiet of the moment bringing their eye contact into that dangerous place once more. “So. Um,” he said, pausing again, letting it build. “Are we ready to do this?” It was almost a whisper, one eye closed a little more than the other in a conspiratorial expression.

“Open the doors,” Patrick said, agreeing that it was time. They were ready. He closed the curtain behind him eclipsing the boxes in the stock room from view while David triple checked to make sure everything was positioned at the precise, correct angle. David was just about to turn the sign to “Open” for the first time and unluck the door when Patrick felt compelled to offer one last teasing suggestion. “Softly,” he said, the single word bearing the weight of their whole conversation in it, pulling up associations to soft, and _goddamn it_ hard. Like he had been this morning when replaying that very conversation as he stirred to consciousness.

David’s returning smile was enough, for now. Rose Apothecary was officially open for business.

~

David was trying really hard to tell himself that their shared gazes throughout the evening were purely platonic, that the look on Patrick’s face was nothing more than pride in the store, in this thing they had built together, in their shared success. He was trying so hard that he had almost convinced himself.

But then the night ended, and their many, _many_ new customers trickled out, plummy with wine and gourmet cheeses, having stripped Rose Apothecary almost bare of its inventory.

The shelving was sparse, now, the white of the units shining through in the absence of items filling them. David’s perfect angles of each item on their vintage counters were askew, items picked up and replaced without attention to which way they were facing, the parallel lines of inventory now a jumble of intermingled products.

The lighting was dimmed, the jazz playing quietly in the background, both a reprieve from the hours of shocking light and noise and performativity. It hadn’t been like that at the Blouse Barn. It wasn’t _his_. He didn’t take the same amount of ownership in Wendy’s space and things and people as his own. His and Patrick’s, and both of them were exhausted from their day of trying to make this owning the best it could be.

David’s heart rate tried to settle, tried to calm itself with the quietude of the empty store, only Patrick in it as he counted the till and took in the financial success of their day. But something kept his heart beating rapidly, and he was sure it was Patrick. Patrick, whose eyes were so _damn loud_ even from across the room, whose fondness could strike him with only a supportive smile in a sea of customers. Now that they were alone, with this new thing they had brought to life between them, something felt like it had changed.

The energy, which had already been upbeat and excited, still crackled in the room between them. Despite the two of them keeping to themselves as they finished their closing tasks, David could feel a tug on his heart, pulling him to where Patrick stood.

Finally, he walked over with a smile, his hands awkwardly meeting in front of his zebra print cashmere sweater. “Well, this was a success,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. Patrick met him in front of the counter, the remainder of his cup of white win in his hand as he nodded and looked around. David was sure he was noticing the same things he had only moments ago. It was impossible to ignore just _how much_ they had sold today. They had planned not only for a dozen or so people, but had sort of expected that those people might buy out of a sense of familial or friendly obligation. This was a result that told an entirely different story, of an entire town coming to patronize a new business on its first day, stripping the shelves and counters and drawers bare of all products, until Rose Apothecary didn’t have a single item fully in stock.

It was a testament to the town, to Schitt’s Creek, and perhaps how desperate they were for culture. Or, at least, for a general store. He was very glad that his—their—general but also very specific store seemed to meet the town’s needs. They had even sold a few things that _no one_ ever needed, like those tree branch pencils.

“I would say so. Yeah,” Patrick agreed finally, as he surveyed their success. It was Patrick’s first business he had helped build from the ground up, he had told David. If Rose Apothecary didn’t succeed, Patrick couldn’t just walk away and consult for someone else. He was a part of this, failure or success.

And it was clearly a success.

“Although, you know,” Patrick continued, a look of teasing chagrin taking over the genuine smile on his face as David focused on his words. “We’d be 25% richer if we’d just done a hard launch. But hey, I’m just a numbers guy.”

David took this in, shock dropping his jaw for a mere second before he stood up for himself, having finally found a rhythm to this banter with Patrick. His new business partner certainly kept him on his toes, and David was learning to enjoy this little dance they did. He just still wasn’t sure what exactly it meant.

“Mmhmm,” David countered, his hands gesticulating as he tried to _educate_ his business partner. “But had we not done the soft launch, we wouldn’t have lured all those people,” he said, reeling his hands in towards his chest like they had done with the townsfolk.

Patrick hemmed a bit, setting his wine down as he turned back to face David. “Hmm. Well, you know, the best thing is that we... never have to talk about it again because we’re officially open.” They would have to agree to disagree on this point, because Patrick was technically right, they would have made more money, but then, they could never know if it was the exclusivity of David’s “friends and family” launch that had drawn such a crowd. They were both sort of right, and Patrick was most right because it really didn’t matter. The day was a huge success and they had accomplished it _together_. As business partners.

“That is true,” David said, smiling as he looked around before settling his gaze once more on Patrick, who was holding his arms raised slightly up and out like he had seen priests do when his mother had dragged him to a Catholic Mass once.

“Congratulations, man,” Patrick said, opening those arms wider for a hug. _Man_ , he had said. It was a little strange to hear that come out of Patrick’s mouth. People did not call David _man_.

“Congratulations to you,” David responded, looking past the odd choice of words to wrap his larger frame around Patrick’s smaller one, his broad shoulders and long arms reaching around to envelop Patrick in a hug. His fingers grazed the middle of Patrick’s back, his ringed hand patting his business partner gently.

Patrick held him close and tight, their bodies touching all over in an intimate hug that David had not necessarily expected Patrick might give. His face fit perfectly in the crook of David’s neck, his strong forearms patting David’s back a little more firmly, before settling in to simply hold him.

They stood there, embracing, and David could only smile, because while he wasn’t pulling away, neither was Patrick. If he was taking his cues from his business partner, then thus hug was not only leading David to reassess his impression of Patrick as ostensibly straight and buttoned up. _Patrick wasn’t pulling away_.

This was not how straight guys hugged other guys. It just wasn’t. David was pretty sure the look on his face might have telegraphed his feelings at the moment, so it was good—and perhaps necessary—that they weren’t looking at each other. Somehow this was easier than anything with eye contact. Like as long as their eyes didn’t meet, neither of them had to acknowledge whatever this _thing_ was between them.

But whatever it was, it was now impossible to ignore. For all Stevie’s teasing about how Patrick was his _business partner_ and nothing more, it now seemed as though she had been on the right track. There was definitely something here, something he could no longer deny existed.

As David pursed his lips into a smile at this development, stroking his hand up and down Patrick’s back once more, the lights flickered. He could feel the warmth of Patrick’s ear against his cheek, a tell-tale sign of a flush. The lights continued to flicker.

As David raised a finger to speak, he heard Patrick announce “I can fix that,” just beside his ear. Even with his back to the light fixtures, Patrick could see and hear the malfunctioning lights, which had thankfully lasted their whole opening and had only now shown their true colors.

At long last, this was the catalyst for the end of their hug, which David wasn’t sure was ever going to end, or might perhaps in another life been ended by one of them pulling back slightly and then going in for a kiss. But not here, not now. Now, Patrick pulled away, his face flushed (from the wine and the excitement of the day, he would answer if questioned) and made a show of moving towards the flickering sconces.

David allowed Patrick to leave his personal space, noting that as he removed himself, Patrick let his hand linger on David’s shoulder, a casual yet intensely _intimate_ touch that extended their physical contact as long as possible. “Okay, yeah. I was just gonna say that,” he also turned toward the lights, a hand on his chin and a furrowed brow completing the look of concern for the lights that in actuality he didn’t give a fuck about at the moment. But Patrick seemed like he needed the façade, so David generously allowed it. “That might need fixing,” David finished unnecessarily as Patrick staunchly avoided making eye contact with him by examining the lights. It was an easy ruse, and David wasn’t sure whether to thank or curse the electricity for breaking their hug in that moment. Time would tell.

“Save it for the morning, Patrick,” David suggested. “This has been quite a day, and I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. The lights can wait.”

Patrick nodded, the moment over and the tension between them loosening as slow as molasses. Patrick could look him in the eye again now, his feelings about whatever that was packed back up and sublimated into his need to fix the lights.

“You go on home,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “It’ll keep me up tonight knowing these need fixed. I won’t be too late,” he assured his business partner. “Since I know you need me to open in the morning.”

David huffed a little, but couldn’t argue with that logic. And he was pretty sure this way avoided them having to deal with leaving the store together as well. Separating like this kept things easy. Gave them both a little more time to figure it out. 


End file.
